The Changeling
by Dan Guerra
Summary: Saunders and his men have finally crossed into Germany, only to encounter an unusual escapee from a POW camp...a bit of a crossover from the film, 'The Great Escape'
1. Chapter 1

The Changeling

Ted Olson was at the end of the tunnel, heart pounding. Twelve feet up was the tunnel exit, he stood on the ladder, waiting for Hilts to give him the 'all clear' signal by tugging on the rope. The tunnel was supposed to reach into the woods, but it was twenty feet short. Cavendish the surveyor had blown it. Now, the tunnel exit was in an open field. Though it was past midnight, the hole was in clear sight of the guards. Hilts had waited until the guards were at the far ends of the prison compound before making a dash for the woods. He used a rope to set up a signal, two tugs meant all clear. The rope signal was working, at least 70 guys had already made it out, and into the woods. Bartlett and MacDonald, the escape leaders had already gone, so the instructions were passed from man to man as they left. Now it was Olson's turn, "come on...come on," why wasn't Hilts giving the signal?

Hanes was right behind him, waiting. They were both dressed in German Wehrmacht uniforms. Bartlett had thought of everything. They had forged identity cards, travel passes, and train tickets. Blythe was an expert forger. Then finally, he felt two tugs on the rope. "Let's go!" He scrambled up the ladder and poked his head out of the hole. He could see the edge of the woods, and behind him was the barbed wire fence of the POW camp, Stalag Luft III. The guards were at the far ends of the compound, so he quickly lifted himself out of the hole and made a dash for the woods, staying low. Hanes was still right behind him. They both ducked behind trees where Hilts was hiding. "Thanks Hilts, good luck!"

"Right."

They both ran deeper into the woods, and stopped to catch their breath. Hanes took out his compass, and struck a match so they could see it. "Bartlett said to keep heading east for two miles, then we'll see the road."

"How far to the station?"

"About twelve miles...if we keep moving, we can make the 7:30 train."

"Bartlett thought of everything."

Then they heard a shot, coming from the direction of the compound. Then more shots, and the sound of men shouting. "Let's get out of here!" They both ran, sometimes nearly tripping in the dark, but they kept moving.

. . . . . .

Sergeant Saunders and his men finally got out of the truck. They had ridden for hours along a highway near the Rhine in the dead of night. After crossing into Germany, they knew the end of the war was probably near. Battalion headquarters was in an old courthouse in a small town. The main German army had crossed over the Rhine and was currently holding the bridge at Remagen, about sixty miles to the north.

"Hey Sarge, when are we gonna get some chow?"

"Hang on..."

Lieutenant Hanley was there to meet them. "Saunders! long time no see...glad you men made it." They saluted. "There's a bridge about a mile from here, it crosses the Rhine. We learned the Germans are trying to secure all the bridges south of Remagen. Since we got here first, we need to hold this one."

"Lieutenant, you think the men could get some rest, and chow first?"

"Of course, of course...Be ready to move at 0700."

. . . . .

Olson and Hanes had made it to the road, they started walking north. "Olson, all those shots...you don't think they got Hilts, do ya?"

"I don't know, but knowing Hilts, he got away. Those were a hell of a lot of shots."

"Yeah, they'll be looking for us now...should we be on this road?"

"Well if we see any headlights, we'll duck into the woods."

Even though they wore German uniforms and carried papers, it was best to avoid any contact. Hanes spoke fluent German, but Olson only knew a few phrases. If they did encounter anyone, Hanes would do all the talking. He had coached Olson on the proper diction, so that he would sound authentic, not as if was speaking with an accent. But they were only a few rudimentary phrases. If someone spoke to him in German, he wouldn't know what the hell they were saying.

It was nearly 7 AM when they entered the town, they were weary from walking all night, but they had to remain alert. There were a few guard posts along the road, but they were manned by teams of two or three soldiers, mostly looking bored and stretching, drinking coffee out of tin cups in that early hour. Some of them noticed Olson and Hanes, and would watch them curiously. Hanes whispered, "act bored...and speak German...only German!"

As they walked past one post, across the street, a guard shouted to them – in German - "Hey! You two! Come here!"

Hanes nodded as in a greeting as they walked over. The soldier was not an officer, which was a relief, but he was curious, and he seemed a bit suspicious. He was older, perhaps one of those later recruits who were still gung ho about their 'cause', even this late in the war. Two others looked on with interest, but they had not raised their weapons. Olson and Hanes were unarmed, also without helmets, just caps, which made them both nervous as hell, but they tried hard to act nonchalant. Surely these soldiers hadn't heard of the escape yet. The Nazis were good with their communication channels, but not _that_ good. Hanes spoke first, "Hello!"

"Who are you guys? I've never seen you before."

Hanes had to think fast, he gambled on the fact that the soldiers didn't know about the escape. In his best German, he spoke,

"I am Corporal Meine, this is Corporal Krieger, we are guards at Stalag Luft III, we're headed for the train station...we're on leave."

The soldier raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You walked all the way from the Stalag?"

"We wanted to catch the early train. The bastards wouldn't let us have a ride."

The soldiers chuckled. "I wish I were on leave..."

Hanes smiled and waved and they started to walk away, "HEY!" They froze, _oh no, now what?_

"You got any cigarettes?"

"Uh...no, sorry." The soldiers shrugged, and Olson and Hanes kept walking.

"Oh man, that was close...I didn't understand a word you were sayin'."

"It's okay, just keep acting bored and look dumb."

They finally came to the train station, where they were astonished to see many of their fellow escapees on the platform. "Oh my God, there's Bartlett and MacDonald! And over there, Ashley-Pitt."

"Yeah! And I see Hendley and Blythe over there!"

All the other men were wearing civilian clothes, dyed and re-fitted from their old uniforms. Blythe was nearly blind by now, all that close-up camera work and forging documents killed his already deteriorating eyesight. Hendley was basically his 'eyes'...Bartlett knew it was a risk, but Blythe had earned his place in the escape tunnel. Olsen and Hanes were wearing German uniforms that were actually authentic, scrounged by Hendley from the quartermaster at the POW camp. Though their uniforms were legitimate, upon closer inspection, they had no rankings or insignia on them, thankfully the soldiers hadn't spotted that.

All of the escapees were ignoring each other, as it was important they not call attention to themselves by acknowledging each other's presence.

"What do we do now?"

"We wait for the train."

The soldiers they had encountered at the edge of town were still pondering. "Karl, did you notice something odd about those two?"

"Like what?"

"Well, their uniforms for one thing...they were brand new."

"So? They were probably issued new ones."

"Yes, but they had no insignia, and they were not armed!"

"Well, they're on leave."

"Yes, but what good soldier of the Reich would travel without his rifle? And the other one, who never spoke, did you see how he kept looking over at his buddy? They seemed odd."

"Hmm..."

Just then their field telephone rang. "Corporal Wentz here...yes Colonel." The soldier listened and then he looked shocked. "Yes Colonel! I think we have!...yes Colonel, at once!" He slammed down the phone. "Those two men! They have escaped from Stalag Luft III! Come on!" They grabbed their rifles and ran to the train station.

The train pulled in to the station. Olson and Hanes climbed aboard, as they noticed the others getting on as well. The coach was mostly empty, so they easily found seats in the middle of the car. Ashley-Pitt entered the same car, and found a seat facing them. He glanced at them once, but didn't acknowledge them. Other German civilians boarded, along with a few Nazi officers of minor rank, but they seemed unaware of any prison break, otherwise they would be eyeing every passenger on the train.

Olson looked out the window. A chill came over him as he saw three cars speed on to the platform...Gestapo. "Oh no..."

Four men from the cars boarded the train just as it started to pull out from the station. As it gained speed, he noticed in the distance a squad of soldiers on foot and on motorcycles converge on the train platform. It was definite now, word had gotten out about the escape, and Gestapo agents were on board the train.

"They know." Olson whispered.

"It's alright...we have papers, we're covered...remember, speak only German!"

. . . . .

By 7 AM, Saunders and his men were en route to the bridge. Their mission was to scout for any German patrols, seize, and hold the bridge until Battalion arrived.

Littlejohn said, "Sarge, why this bridge? The big one is at Remagen."

"This bridge leads to Koblentz. It's a choke point...the Germans will wanna blow it up, along with the one at Karlsruhe. Every bridge we can hold in place means that more tanks can get across the Rhine."

. . . . .

Olson and Hanes sat quietly as the train chugged along, headed for Oden, the next stop. The next stops along the way were Koblentz and Karlsruhe. No sign of the Gestapo...yet. Surely they were making their way through the train cars, inspecting everyone's identification. The door opened at the far end of the car. It was Hendley and Blythe! Hendley appeared to be looking out of the train window as he leaned over to Ashley-Pitt and whispered something. Ashley-Pitt reached into his pocket and pulled out reading glasses and put them on, then he took out a German newspaper and started reading it.

As they made their way down the aisle towards them, Hendley leaned over again, as if to look out the window and whispered, _"tally ho"_...Tally ho...the hunt is on...Gestapo.

Hendley and Blythe exited the car by the door at the other end.

A few seconds later, three armed men came through the door at the far end. They scanned all the people seated in the train car...Gestapo...Olson was shaking with fear. The main Gestapo agent looked at Ashley-Pitt, and asked for his identification. He calmly conversed with them in fluent German, and his papers seemed to be in order. They moved on...whew! Blythe WAS good with those forgeries...

The Gestapo agents moved along the aisle, looking for anyone suspicious, any possible prisoner of war escapees. As they approached, Olson was torn...should he make casual eye contact? Or should he keep his head down? He was wearing the uniform after all.

He glanced up casually as the agent and his men walked by and exited to the next train car...the uniform was good enough after all! Both he and Hanes breathed a huge sigh of relief...as did Ashley-Pitt at the other end of the car. They glanced at each other long enough to exchange a grin and a shake of the head...

About five minutes later Olson saw something out of the window, "Oh Jesus!"

Hanes grabbed his arm and whispered loudly, _"Olson! Alles duechtes! Verschtehensie!" _

"look out there."

They gasped as they saw Hendley and Blythe tumbling down an embankment and scrambling behind a haystack. They had jumped off the train.


	2. Chapter 2

Saunders and his men walked single file along a wooded slope between the road and the river. Soon the bridge came into view, about a hundred yards away. They all stopped and gathered. It was a steel cantilever design, about three hundred feet long. Saunders took out his binoculars and scanned the bridge. He spotted a patrol at the near end, about 6 men. They must have just arrived, because a half-track with six more men in the back was crossing the bridge.

"Yeah...Krauts. I see six on this side, but no gear. They're probably here to guard the bridge until the demolition crew arrives."

As he watched, two men stayed at the near end of the bridge as the rest fanned out along the perimeter along the road. He handed the binoculars to Littlejohn, "See that clump of bushes near the bridge?"

"yeah, yeah I see it."

"You, Kirby, and Craig advance along the river, stay close to the shore, and stay down!...We'll be about fifty feet behind, closer to the road. Stay behind those bushes down there...When you hear a grenade go off, make a dash for under the bridge, got it?

"Yeah Sarge."

"okay, move...Morelli, you and me are point...let's go." The men advanced toward the bridge.

. . . . .

Olson and Hanes watched as Hendley and Blythe scrambled for cover behind a haystack, off the train..._'good for them'_ Olson thought...his nervousness was becoming a confusing jumble of thoughts...so many things to be nervous about, that it all became a kind of symphony in his mind...or more like a cacophony that needed to be ignored. He needed to _think_, to be focused.

"Wow! Looks like they jumped, huh? I wonder where they'll go from here," Hanes quietly said...in German.

"Yeah...I wonder." Olson replied, in German.

"Hey, you're German is getting good!"

"Ha! Yeah I guess so."

The train continued on and finally stopped at a station. A town called Oden. They saw Ashley-Pitt get up to leave the train. Hanes whispered, in English, "Hey! Ashley-Pitt is getting off! Hey maybe we should get off too huh?"

"No, no...our tickets take us to Koblentz, we should stay on...it's close to the French border, we can cross into France there."

"But the plan was to cross into Switzerland!"

"Yeah, yeah...okay fine! You go...Me? I'm staying on this train because I wanna get back in this fight and kick the hell out of the Germans!"

Hanes gave a heavy sigh. Then they heard a shot from outside the train...then more shots...someone shouted, in German, "Everyone down!"

They watched through the window as Ashley-Pitt was running full speed along the train platform as a hail of bullets struck him in the back. He staggered a few steps and collapsed.

"Oh shit. Oh Jesus. How did it all come to this?" Olson felt frozen with a kind of fear that he had never experienced in the entire war...

"Oh my God! They shot Eric!" Hanes was horrified, and panicky, "What do we do now?"

This time it was Olson's turn to do the thinking, "We remain seated and keep our mouths shut!...we saw nothing. Just shut up! We're German soldiers on leave, remember?"

. . . . .

Saunders and his squad advanced slowly. He could still see Littlejohn and the others down by the river. They had taken their position down there, out of sight. Saunders knew what to do.

Slowly, each man advanced, taking cover tree by tree, almost like a checker game, but ever closer to the six guards at the bridge. Caje, Garcia, Doc, and Novak took cover behind an embankment along the road. Finally Saunders spotted a German, and another on the road, not far from the bridge. He could see Caje and gave him a hand-signal, 'two...there.'

He took out a grenade and threw it hard like a baseball...the explosion destroyed the soldier as Saunders shouted "Go!"

Littlejohn heard the grenade go off, "let's go!" They dashed for the underside of the bridge as they heard shots fired.

Saunders and Morelli charged forward, firing as they went. They dove for cover behind a small ridge as the two soldiers on the bridge returned fire in their general direction, as they took cover behind the steel footing of the bridge. The three other German soldiers on the road fired wildly as they scrambled over the embankment on other side of the road. One of them was hit by covering fire from Caje's location.

Littlejohn saw the firing above him. He signaled to Kirby and Craig, 'other side'. They crossed under the bridge to the far side. Slowly they climbed up to the road level and saw the two Germans. They opened fire and got them both. That's when Kirby saw the German half-track entering the far end of the bridge. "Oh my God.."

Caje and the others had moved along the embankment towards the bridge as they fired across the road. Doc saw a grenade arcing in their direction. "Grenade!" They all dove for cover as Doc grabbed it and flung it away, it went off about three seconds later, but far enough away.

Caje signaled them to stay down. Everything was still for a moment. Then they heard the truck approaching from across the bridge. As the two Germans from the other side of the road slowly emerged, Caje and Garcia opened fire and they went down. Saunders yelled, "Get to the bridge!"

They all ran for the entrance to the bridge and took positions behind the steel girders. Saunders noticed the slope of the girders as they led up to the top of the cantilever frame. The truck was about two hundred feet away and advancing slowly. Saunders looked at Kirby on the other side, and with a motion of his head, indicated that they climb up. "Covering fire!" They all fired in the direction of the truck as Saunders and Kirby climbed up the sloping girders.

. . . . .

Olson and Hanes remained on the train for the next two hours without further incident, but it still unnerved them about what was coming once they got off. "You think Bartlett and MacDonald made it out okay?"

"I don't know. Well, there weren't any more shots after they got Ashley-Pitt." The train slowly pulled into the station at Koblenz. "Okay, this is it." Hanes said as they stood up to get off. Outside on the platform, they noticed a line of Gestapo staff cars and SS men.

They got off the train. "Now what?" Hanes said, as he tried his best not to look suspicious.

"We head for the town, then find the best way to get to the border."

As they walked past the SS soldiers, Hanes was surprised that they were obviously being observed, but no one stopped them for questioning. They walked on and left the station onto a main street.

. . . . .

Saunders and Kirby had reached the top of the bridge, where there was a flat steel plate about 6 feet long and 3 feet wide, enough to allow them to be unseen from below. As he looked along the length of the framework, Saunders noticed a series of steel plates at each intersection of girders.

The half-track stopped as men poured out, taking cover. Firing continued in both directions, with bullets ricocheting off the steel framework. "Geez! How many are there?" Kirby shouted. "Sarge counted six...could be more...keep firing!"

Littlejohn and Craig edged around the outside of the girder and tried to advance to the next set of girders, as a hail of bullets drove them back. As they reloaded, they spotted two Germans across the river trying to make their way under the bridge. They fired in their direction and one was hit. On the left side of the bridge, Caje and Morelli had managed to get to the next set of girders.

As Saunders watched from above, he saw that the only way to advance to the next steel plate was to traverse a narrow girder, about six inches wide. On one side, it was a sixty foot drop to the river, on the other side, a twenty foot drop to the roadway. He looked over at Kirby and motioned with his head, 'forward'...

Littlejohn and Craig tried to advance again, this time they made it. Up above, Saunders stood up, ready to do a thirty-foot tightrope walk along the girder to the next steel plate. Stepping quickly with his arms outstretched, he made it. Kirby tried to do the same on the other side, but halfway across he started to lose his balance and crouched down, stradling the girder. Slowly he made his way along with his hands, seated. Saunders looked down and saw Garcia and Novak. When they spotted him, he motioned them to come up too. As they started climbing, he heard the truck gun its engine as it moved forward again. It was making a charge.

. . . . .

Olson and Hanes walked along the street in Koblenz. "We need to head west." As they turned a corner a car pulled along side them and stopped. Four men got out...Gestapo. "Gentlemen, will you come with us please?"

"What's going on? We're on leave." Hanes said.

"Gentlemen, I suggest you get in the car." One of the men held the rear door of the car open. Olson and Hanes looked at each other, then got in.

As Olson got in first, he recognized the man in the back seat. The man gave him a curt nod and a slight smile. As they all got back in the car, the man said, "Drive."

. . . . .

Saunders and Kirby were at the next steel plates above the bridge, as Garcia and Novak were on the ones behind them. The truck was about 50 feet away, coming towards them below. The men in the back were laying down covering fire, so it was difficult for anyone below to get any clear shot. Saunders didn't want to give away their position from above just yet. He gave a hand signal to Kirby on the other side, indicating the six in the back, 'Grenades'...He turned around to Garcia and Novak, 'Driver'.

When the truck was about 20 feet away, Craig and Morelli stepped out from the side below and opened fire. The Germans returned fire from the truck and both men were hit. Morelli was thrown backwards as he plunged into the river. Saunders started shooting at the back of the truck as it was beginning to pass under him. Garcia and Novak opened fire at the windshield as the truck lurched to the left. Kirby tossed two grenades into the back. The explosions rocked the truck as it plowed into one of the girders, shaking the entire bridge. The four men above held on as the girders swayed. When the smoke cleared, it appeared all the Germans were dead. The men on the bridge advanced with weapons on the vehicle, but no one stirred. Littlejohn looked in the back, then looked up at Saunders and nodded his head. Saunders nodded back and the men began to climb down.

. . . . .

The car carrying the Gestapo agents and Olson and Hanes turned past a warehouse outside of Koblenz. The vehicle parked near a large truck. All the men got out, and the man who was in the back faced Olson and Hanes, as he pulled out a pistol and pointed it towards them. Hanes heart sank. Olson's heart was pounding. The man looked at Olson with another wry smile. He was a short, balding man with a small moustache, obviously emulating Hitler's. In German, he said, "Well done, Herr Olsten."

Hanes looked over at Olson with a confused look. Olson didn't look at Hanes, he looked at the ground, "Uh...Thank you Herr Kuhn."

Hanes couldn't believe it. "Olson?"

"Major Olsten has been deep undercover." Kuhn explained to Hanes. "At first, he was to report the escape attempt to Colonel Von Luger. Then we decided it was better to let them escape, and re-capture them as...spies." Olson still couldn't look at Hanes. "Also, for some time, we have considered Von Luger too, uh...soft. He needed to be replaced, and this escape will be the perfect reason to replace him." Kuhn stepped towards Olson and handed him the gun. _Oh no_, Olson thought. "Since you've been undercover for so long, there was concern that you too, Olsten, may have become...soft."

_Don't do this, you bastard,_ Olson said silently.

Kuhn stepped back a few paces as the other agents reached into their pockets, obviously reaching for their guns, but leaving them there, for now. "We must be sure you are still loyal to the Fatherland, Herr Olsten." He motioned toward Hanes. "Shoot him."

"Herr Kuhn, please...this isn't necessary..."

"Shoot him!"

Olsen looked at Hanes finally. He knew the look in Hanes eyes would stay with him for the rest of his life. He had known him for two years, he was his friend. But, he was also...the enemy.

"Olson?...Ted?"

"I'm sorry Hanes."

Olson shot him twice in the chest.


	3. Chapter 3

Saunders was halfway down the sloping girder, then he called out, "Littlejohn! You still got those binoculars?"

"Yeah right here Sarge!"

"Toss 'em up here, will ya?"

Littlejohn tossed them up underhand and Saunders caught them with one hand, and then climbed back up. He looked up and down the road on the far side of the bridge, no sign of any German patrols. Climbing back down, he called out, "Alright let's clean up this bridge!"

. . . . .

Olson sat silently in the back seat of the car, almost numb. Except of course, for an intense loathing.

A loathing for the man sitting next to him, Kuhn. But most of all an acute self-loathing for what he had done to Hanes. It wasn't supposed to be like this. When he was first recruited, he wanted to serve, he was eager to serve Germany. And because he was fluent in English, he was sent to an elite school of specialized training. He earned the rank of Major and was eager to see action. Instead he was assigned to a POW camp, to be 'undercover'. _How blind I was,_ he thought.

"Something bothering you, Herr Olsten?"

He looked over half startled, "No, Herr Kuhn...I'm just...very tired. I've slept very little for two days."

"Ah...well, it's another hour or so to the rendezvous point, get some rest if you can."

"Yes, thank you Herr Kuhn." Olson put his head back and closed his eyes.

But there was no way he could sleep. Shooting Hanes was the worst, most despicable thing he had ever done. But why? Why did he do it so automatically, without thinking? These Nazis have become monsters...killers.

What he _should_ have done back there, was turn the gun on Kuhn. He may have killed him, but the other men would surely have killed Hanes and himself...Or, he could have shot the three men first, quickly, since Kuhn was unarmed...Olsen had been trained in all of that. But he never put it to any use, having languished in the camp, always awaiting 'special orders' that never came. And he had heard story after story of the cruelty of the Nazis from the other prisoners.

He had always considered himself a good German, that their cause was right...but not anymore, not after Hanes. He had become one of 'them'.

Then he realized he still had the gun, four bullets left, four men in the car. He could shoot Kuhn and jump out of the car, but since it was in a convoy of Nazi vehicles, he knew he wouldn't get far...He could shoot the driver first, then the other two, then Kuhn...but it would end in the same result.

He knew that killing Kuhn would disrupt the chain of command in the Gestapo for weeks, probably saving hundreds of lives, and in doing so, he himself would get killed...He decided to wait, simply because he didn't want to get killed...and then he felt another groundswell of self-loathing...he was an unmitigated coward.

. . . . .

"Hey Sarge! What do we do with these Germans?"

Saunders looked around, "Dump 'em over the side, into the river."

Novak seemed uncertain, "Over the side? Are you sure, Sarge?"

"Yeah, what are you waiting for? Get going!... Kirby! Back this truck off the bridge, park it out of the way, got it? This bridge needs to be clear when the Germans come, make it look like nothing's wrong."

"Right Sarge."

The rest of the squad dragged the dead Germans to the edge of the bridge and dropped them over. The bodies splashed into the river. Novak was hesitant. "It don't seem right Sarge."

"What don't seem right?"

"Well, just dumpin' em' over like that...it just...don't seem right."

Saunders seemed impatient, then thoughtful, "Look, kid, what do you suggest, wrap 'em up and mail 'em home?...of course it ain't right...look at Morelli down there!...NONE of this is right!...In case you hadn't noticed, there's a war on...now get going!"

"Yes sir."

Saunders surveyed the scene. Kirby was backing the German half-track off the bridge. Doc was tending Craig who was hit below the shoulder. There was a volume of blood. "He'll be okay Sarge, it went right through him. I gave him some morphine." Craig's face was wincing in pain.

"Okay get him off the bridge, on the far side. Wait for battalion aide." As the bridge was being cleared, Saunders looked down at the river, as it carried the bodies downstream. He looked at all of them, he looked down at the ground, and slightly shook his head. "Alright everyone fall in! We'll take up positions on the far side of this bridge, and we hold it until we're relieved. Let's go."

. . . . .

Olson felt as though he was going to be physically sick, or burst into tears. But that would never happen. He controlled his emotions like the earth's crust controls volcanoes. He could maintain, even ignore his emotions...but they were always there. "I have a new assignment for you Herr Olsten."

"Sir?"

"You are to rendezvous with a company of men on a special operation. They are all fluent in English. With the success of their actions in the Ardennes, we are re-assembling a new unit. You are to pose as American MP's, and disrupt their logistics as much as possible."

The car arrived at an assembly point. Other German soldiers were being briefed as they boarded a truck. The truck bed was open, with wooden sideboards. "Go with those men over there. You will be further briefed and issued new equipment once you reach the rendezvous point in Remagen. Now go!"

Olson got out of the car and headed for the truck. He was one of the last ones on. A soldier closed the tailgate as the truck started on its way.

. . . . .

It was mid-morning. Saunders kept his eye on the road leading from the east, on the other side of the river. They needed to establish a bridgehead. There were a few groves of trees along the raised roadway, and a wooden shack near the bridge that was unoccupied. Kirby had parked the truck near the shack, in a location that would provide cover if necessary. Doc was bandaging Craig behind the truck. "Hey Sarge, when's battalion gonna get here?"

"Sometime today, according to Hanley. Hopefully before the Krauts get here."

Saunders also noticed a rock wall about three feet high that extended along the road. "Kirby, you and Novak go up about twenty yards, set up over there behind that wall. When the Germans..."

"Sarge! Krauts!"

There was a German utility truck coming in their direction. "Okay load up! Load up! Littlejohn, Garcia, you're with me over here...Caje, you guys behind the half-track, go!" Saunders and the four other men took positions behind the rock wall. There was only one truck, no convoy. "Those trucks hold at least twelve guys." It was still about a hundred yards away, and coming closer. "Stay down...get ready...on my command..."

Olson sat near the tailgate. He had been chatting with the men near him. They were all young, enthusiastic. "The Americans are fools," said one, "now that they are on German soil, they will really see what we have in store..." Olson could only smile and shake his head. Only about half the men were armed. He wished he had more than just a puny handgun, half-empty. As the truck approached a bridge, he noticed a German half-track parked near a shack. No sign of any soldiers around. "That's odd..." Then he spotted two objects behind a rock wall...green objects. His eyes widened. "Get down!"

A hail of bullets struck the front and right side of the truck. The wooden sideboards splintered as several men were hit. "OUT!" The truck swerved to the left and off the road as Olson and five others jumped out and took cover behind the road embankment, as two others went behind the truck, now stalled at an angle. The men who had rifles returned fire. Olson himself fired until his pistol was empty. "Damn!" Two of the men next to him were dead.

The Americans began to emerge from their cover, still firing sporadically. Olson raised his hands in the air, "Don't shoot! I'm an American! Don't shoot!"

Kirby saw the German with his hands raised, _what? American?_...yeah right...Just then another German fired again, Kirby returned fire as the surrendering German fled behind the truck, and out of sight. There were shots coming from underneath. Saunders, Littlejohn and Garcia dashed across the road on the other side, outflanking the truck. They spotted four Germans back there, half under the truck, firing. Saunders tossed a grenade under the truck and they opened up on them. After that, the shooting ceased. Caje joined them on their side of the road. "Looks like we got 'em."

"Yeah...but why just these?" Saunders looked through the truck. "They don't have any demolition gear."

"Maybe they're a recon unit."

"Maybe...okay let's move this thing."

Olson had leaped for cover after the American began firing. Behind the truck, he made a dash towards a wooded area beyond the road. Taking cover behind a tree, he looked up and noticed its branches and thick foliage. He climbed the tree and hid among its highest branches.

Kirby, Novak, and Garcia watched as Littlejohn moved the truck over near the half-track. "Now what Sarge?"

"It ain't over yet. I don't know who these guys were, but there's more coming...battalion size, at least. We'll wait for Hanley. Meanwhile, let's take a break, but keep a sharp eye!"

"Right Sarge." The three of them strolled into a shade of trees. They sat down by a tree trunk and lit up some cigarettes. "Did you hear that one Kraut?" Kirby said, "He said he was American."

"Yeah, sure he was...probably one of those English-speaking Krauts at the Ardennes."

"Well he sure sounded like one."

"They train those guys. But they always slip up one way or another."

Olson was perched in his tree as he watched the Americans move the truck and the bodies of his fallen comrades. Then, to his horror, he watched as three of them sat down by the tree right beneath him! He listened carefully to their conversation. Should he reveal himself and risk being shot? Or should he remain hidden, and wait for a larger German force to arrive? If it ever arrived...He decided.

"Hey!...hey you guys!...up here!"

Kirby, Novak, and Garcia looked at each other, then up. "What the..!" They scrambled to their feet and aimed their weapons at the man in the tree. "It's him!...it's that Kraut!"

"Don't shoot!" Olson shouted, "Hold your fire! I'm an American! I'm unarmed!"

"Alright come down outta there! No tricks!"

"Okay I'm coming down!...don't shoot!"

Olson slowly climbed down, as the men slowly backed away, rifles aimed. Finally he jumped to the ground. "Okay, hands up," Kirby shouted. Olson raised his arms.

"Guys...I'm American...Captain Ted Olson, 9th Army Air Corps."

"What's with the Kraut uniform?"

"I just escaped from a prisoner of war camp, this is my uhh...disguise."

"Search him." Garcia lowered his weapon and searched his pockets. He found all of Olson's documents. "What's all this?"

"They're forged...we were given fake documents so we could get across Germany."

"They look pretty real to me. You got any dog tags?"

"No, I lost them. But those are fake I tell ya! Look, I'm an American!"

"Yeah? Who won the World Series last year?"

"How should I know? I've been in a POW camp...but I hope it was the Cardinals."

Kirby and Garcia looked at each other. "You a Cards fan?"

"Hell yeah! I'm from St. Louis!"

"Hmm, well, let's take him to the Sarge. Come on, let's go." They all walked back to the trucks.

The rest of the squad saw them coming. "Looks like they got a prisoner!"

"Hey Sarge! This guy says he's American."

"American huh?"

"Yeah! I'm Captain Ted Olson, 9th Army Air Corps. I escaped from Stalag Luft III last night."

"What were you doing with these Krauts?"

"They picked me up when I was walking along. I speak German, so I faked my way through."

"Uh huh...well we'll hand you over to battalion when they get here."

"Sarge! More Krauts!" They all turned and saw a column of vehicles approaching from the direction Olson had come. "Alright, everyone into position! Garcia, take Olson behind the half-track with Doc, keep an eye on him."

"Yeah Sarge."

Saunders crouched behind the rock wall with Caje. "There's too many of them, Sarge. We can't hold them all off."

"I know, I know...we'll slow 'em down if we can, then make for the bridge."

As the column approached to within fifty yards, they all took out grenades. "Now!" They threw them all in the direction of the lead vehicles and opened fire along the rock wall. The column stopped and dozens of German troops poured out of the trucks. Many were hit, but dozens more returned fire, taking cover behind the trucks and across the road. Saunders and his men were clearly outnumbered. Novak tried to reload but was hit in the neck. Saunders watched as he went down. He signaled Kirby and Littlejohn to fall back to the half-track. "We'll lay down suppressing fire, then fall back, go!"

They all made their way back to the half-track as the Germans advanced across the road. Doc yelled, "What's happening?"

"Watch the sides! They're gonna outflank us!" They fired from underneath, and from both ends of the vehicle as the Germans advanced. Kirby shouted, "I'm out of ammo!" Olson had been sitting near Craig, who was wounded, and he saw his chance. He grabbed Craig's Thompson machine gun and stood up and fired it over their heads. "Drop your weapons! NOW!" Saunders and his men froze, just as German troops converged on them. "Hands over your heads!" The men slowly raised their arms. "The son of a bitch."


	4. Chapter 4

Saunders and his men stood with their hands over their heads as Olson and three German soldiers held them at gunpoint. Olson spoke to the soldiers, in German, "I am Major Olsten, Who is in charge here?"

"Colonel Kessler sir, our orders are to detonate this bridge."

"These are my prisoners. Take them to that shed over there. They are to be treated with respect, under the articles of the Geneva Convention. Go!" The soldiers nudged Saunders forward. They all walked single file towards the shed. "Where is the Colonel now?"

"On the bridge sir."

"Good...keep an eye on the prisoners." Olson went to the bridge.

Saunders and the men sat on the dirt floor against the wall. It was an old utility shack, used for bridge maintenance, with shelves and assorted tools. Two soldiers stood guard over them, and one stood outside by the door. "Can you believe that guy?" Kirby said, "He sure had me fooled, he was a Kraut all along!"

Saunders only sighed. Olson was a minor detail. In fact, he probably saved their lives. "Well, forget about Olson. Just sit tight for now, we'll figure out a way to get the hell out of here."

"You mean when battalion gets here? They're gonna be in for a surprise...especially if they blow the bridge!"

"You! Silence!" one of soldiers said in broken English.

They sat for over an hour, as they heard activity on and around the bridge. Vehicles moving up and down its length, and endless chatter in German. Their two guards seemed restless, they chatted among themselves. Littlejohn whispered, "It'll probably take them at least two or three hours to rig the explosives, I wish Hanley would get here."

"Just sit tight." Saunders said.

The door to the shed suddenly opened. It was Olson. "I spoke to the Colonel. You will be treated well. In fact, he's willing to let you go...if you'll tell him the strength and location of your units in the area."

"Go to hell!" Kirby shouted. "Mr. Turncoat!"

"Kirby..."

"You were an American when we found you. Now you're a Kraut again? Who's side are you on?"

"He's on whichever side is winning." Caje said. That comment stung Olson.

"Shut up!"

Saunders asked him, "What side ARE you on, Olson? Are you German or American?"

Olson thought for a moment, then laughed quietly. "Actually Sergeant, I'm both."

Kirby twisted his face, "Whaaat?"

Olson looked over and explained. "I was born in Germany. When I was two years old, my family moved to America...to St. Louis."

"Ohh..." Garcia said. "So you really are a Cards fan!"

"Ha...yeah! Hell, I grew up at Forbes Field!...but my father always said we were Germans first, that is our heritage, to be German. When the war broke out, duty called, my father insisted, so I came back to Germany and joined up."

"But America is your home! How can you fight against Americans? And why fight for that lunatic, Hitler and his Nazi goons?"

"I didn't see it that way...at first...but now..." his voice trailed off.

Saunders said, "Olson, you know Germany is gonna lose the war. Get us out of here...join us...we'll make sure you make it back to the States."

"It's not that simple, Sergeant."

"Why not?...Olson, get us out of here."

"You asked what side I was on, Sergeant. Well, quite frankly...I don't know." Olson turned and left the shack.

"Now what?" Kirby said.

A few minutes later, they heard shouting in the distance. It became more frantic. The two guards in the shed looked alarmed. They suddenly heard a loud _whoosh! _as an explosion from outside rocked the shed. Then another explosion. As if on cue, Littlejohn, who was sitting nearest to the shelf, had grabbed a heavy wrench earlier. He hurled it at the guard near the door and it hit him on the side of the neck, stunning him. Saunders quickly charged him and grabbed for his gun. As the other guard spun in their direction, Caje swept his leg and kicked the guard's feet out from under him. The guard fired wildly as bullets splintered the ceiling. Littlejohn was on his feet and kicked the soldier hard in the ribs as Caje grabbed his gun. The guard grabbed at his leg, and Caje shot him. As the third guard from outside burst through the door, Caje opened fire, blasting him back out of the doorway. Saunders wrestled the first guard's gun away and butted his head. Both guards were down.

They all crouched at the door as another series of explosions sent men running in all directions. Three trucks were on fire. "Let's see if our guns are still there...if not, head upstream and cross the river, back to our side...Doc, get Craig across, let's go!"They dashed for the half-track and saw that their weapons were gone. "Okay take off! Head for the river!"

Saunders and Caje laid down suppressing fire as the rest of the squad made their way up the riverbank.

Garcia joined with a Thompson, "I found this!"

They ducked as bullets struck the underside of the half-track. It was chaos all around as men ran for cover. They could see some men running in retreat. Saunders looked across the river as he saw three Sherman tanks approaching the bridge. "They're here!"

"Sarge! Look under there!" Caje pointed as they saw the demolition crew finalize their wiring and climb back up the embankment. "Stay down." Saunders moved toward the river and back a few yards, where the riverbank formed a small cliff that provided some cover. From there he could see the detonator, about fifty feet away. One of the crew was wiring it. Three other men were coming up the bank to join him. Saunders fired and took out the three men coming up the bank, and ducked behind the cliff as the man by the detonator returned fire. Caje joined Saunders, "Sarge, I'm out of ammo!" Saunders fired at the detonator again but the gun stopped firing. He was out too.

The first Sherman was on the bridge, about half way across, as the other tanks continued firing from the other side of the river. The shed they had been in exploded.

"Sarge, he's gonna blow the bridge!" There were no friendly infantry to be seen on the other side yet. Enemy fire had become sporadic. Saunders gathered some rocks and started throwing them at the man with the detonator. Caje joined in. One of the rocks struck the man in the face. He cursed as he swung his gun and fired at them again. They both dove for cover. Just then they saw two boots hit the ground beside them, it was Garcia.

"Are you armed?"

"Yes sir!"

"Get that guy!" Garcia aimed and fired. The man toppled over. He kept firing as the detonator itself was blown to shreds. "How's that?" Garcia stood up as a shot rang out. A bullet hit his forehead and he fell backwards. A German soldier jumped down to the riverbank and pointed his rifle at Saunders and Caje. It was the guard Saunders had butted. They were both out of ammo, unarmed. They raised their hands. The soldier smirked and bolted the gun, taking aim at Saunders. "What's he doing?" Caje said, "Hey! We're unarmed!"

"I don't think he's gonna take prisoners."

"Oh Jeeez."

"This is it..."

The soldier prepared to fire. Two shots rang out as the soldier jerked, eyes widened, he fell to his knees and dropped forward, dead. Seconds later another German jumped down. It was Olson. "Looks like I'm on your side after all," he said with a grin, putting down his rifle.

Saunders smiled and shook his head. Then he noticed American troops crossing the bridge. Some of them spotted Olson. A sniper took aim. "Oh, no" Saunders jumped up and waved, "Wait a minute!"

It was too late, the sniper fired and hit Olson in the side. He went down in a heap. "Olson!" Saunders and Caje knelt down, Saunders lifted his head. He was still conscious. "Take it easy Olson. We'll get you fixed up."

"Nah...it's okay Sergeant...just tell 'em I'm sorry...I'm sorry...about Hanes."

"Shut up! You don't get off that easy...Why?...why, Olson?

"I....I just wanted to be on the good guy's side..."

"yeah fine, you're a good guy...why switching sides all the time? What do you know about them?...Olson!"

Olson's eyes rolled back and his head went limp. He was dead. Saunders sighed and he and Caje stood up.

"Who's Hanes?" Saunders shrugged.

They could see Hanley coming from the bridge. He joined them at the riverbank. "You held the bridge among all this! Nice work!"

"Thank you sir."

Hanley looked over at Garcia. "We lost Moretti and Novak too," Saunders said. "The rest of the squad should be back across the river by now."

"Who's this?" Hanley pointed at Olson.

"Name's Olson, he was American...only, he was German."

"Well, was he American or German?"

"Both...neither...he was uh...a changeling."

"Alright well, get over to battalion, you're done here."

"Yes sir."

Saunders and Caje walked to the bridge. They were all done here.


End file.
